Blurred Lines
by NarcissaNerea
Summary: There are thin lines between madness and sanity, between solace and prison, between mother and son, between loved one and lover. This is what happens when those lines cross. Rated I for incest.
1. Chapter 1

Many thanks to the wonderful Mrs. Milfoy for all of her help!

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"How dare you kick me out of my own house!" Narcissa shrieked.

The auror sighed, "Mrs. Malfoy..."

Narcissa ignored him. "I saved Harry Potter's life! My son -" she said, wildly gesturing to the blonde sulking in the shadows " - didn't have a choice!"

"Be that as it may, Madam, your husband was very much a Death Eater. For years, in fact." The impish auror continued, pinching the bridge of his nose. "As such-"

"As such you see fit to make me and my son homeless? Freeze our accounts until you've decided we can buy a loaf of bread again?" Narcissa glared at her solicitor before continuing. "The Dark Lord is dead. You've already put my husband in prison. What difference does it make now?"

_Apparently it still made a difference_. Narcissa tugged on the threads of the old blanket, remembering the humiliating debacle that took place not even two weeks prior. _Punished to make the Ministry look like they were finally doing something._ She sipped the not quite steeped tea.

_Where were they months before?_ Her hands clenched the chipped teacup. She doubted it had ever had a matching saucer. _Where had the Ministry been when Bella had escaped from Azkaban?_ Narcissa took another sip. _Too busy blaming our cousin. _She stared out the window, wishing she was back home on her overstuffed settee, looking out her own window at the few remaining peacocks that would be frolicking in the well manicured garden.

"Narcissa?" A voice beckoned her from across the hall.

Narcissa swallowed. "Yes?" She responded hesitantly.

"Would you help with dinner please?"

"Yes, be there in a moment."

"Thank you!"

Narcissa could hear a loud racket of pots and pans as her sister began to cook. She sighed as she pried herself from the couch, letting the blanket drop onto the floor as she walked across the hall and into the kitchen.

"Oh, you've finished your tea?" Andromeda appeared from the pantry. "Let me take that for you," she said, grabbing the cup from Narcissa and placing it in the sink. "Grab the potatoes will you?"

Narcissa bit her lip. _I've no idea why she is bothering with teaching me. I have to be more of a hindrance than help. _She picked up the half empty sack of potatoes from the corner of the kitchen.

_How many potatoes does one clean for three people? _ Rolling up her sleeves, she took a few out of the sack and began washing them. Disgusted by the dirt that got her on hands and under her nails.

"Might I be of any help...Aunt-Andromeda?"

Narcissa turned her head at the sound of her son's voice. Standing in the doorway, eyes red from smoking Merlin knows what out in the woods behind the house. Thin. Too thin from hardly eating. Narcissa turned off the tap and set the last potato on the counter, hoping she had cleaned enough.

"Would you mind chopping them up?" her sister asked. "Draco, set the table please."

She pursed her lips as she pulled a knife from the draw. _My poor boy. Such a mess_. She heard the clank and clatter as he pulled plates down from the shelves. _Not really a boy though. No, not any more. A man I suppose. _She felt his hands nudge her hips and a murmured 'excuse me, mother' as he reached in the drawer to grab the mismatched cutlery.

Nearly three hours later they were sitting around the dining room table. Narcissa pushed the stew around her plate, something she had often chastised Draco for in the past. Occasionally taking a small bite in between forced comments about Andromeda's babble. It was bland. The food, that is. Although she couldn't say much about whatever her sister was going on about, either.

She looked up from her plate. He was staring again. Something she had noticed he had been doing quite often as of late. She often found him watching her. Reading. Drinking tea. Staring at her as she stared out the window. He never turned away when she caught him. Never seemed to be embarrassed. "Draco, eat." He sneered. 'You look just like your father when you do that' she wanted to say. She couldn't be arsed to open her mouth. To speak. Besides, _the poor boy - man has gone through enough already. It wouldn't do to insult him for something he couldn't help_.

Draco stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork. It was cold. The potatoes were undercooked. He forced himself to eat another bite to make his aunt think the meal was edible. _I'll gift her with a cookbook for Yule._ His gaze never left his mother. '_Draco, eat_' he mocked her in his head. Who was she to talk? Her collar bone stuck out more than his ribs.

"You both never eat, do you?" Draco watched as his aunt stood from the head of the table and collected their plates. "Understandable, I suppose," she continued as she headed into the kitchen. "I know you've both been through a lot."

Draco turned his head, finally breaking the gaze with his mother. _You've no fucking idea, auntie_. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of her scraping their half eaten meals into the bin. He stood and dropped his wrinkled napkin onto the table. Leaving his mother sitting at the table, Draco left the dining room and made his way into the lounge. He picked up the blanket Narcissa had dropped on the floor hours before and tossed it onto the other end of the settee before sitting down.

Draco switched on the lamp next to him. _Disgusting combination of magic and muggleness blended together_. He picked up the textbook he had been reading earlier. A book he should have read in his sixth year instead of unwillingly plotting the assassination of his headmaster. _If I go back to school this autumn would I be a sixth year or seventh? Eight possibly? Would they put me in Slytherin? Does Slytherin still exist? Oh gods, I'm going to be a Hufflepuff. _

He began reading from where he had left off: "...modification of the elixir is not recommended. In 1854, after a steady consumption of the elixir over a series of weeks, Marilyn Douter of Devon disappeared. She was found days later in a fishing village in northern Spain speaking only in haikus. ... after a steady consumption of the elixir over a series of weeks, Marilyn Douter of Devon disappeared. She was found days later in a fishing village in northern Spain speaking only in haikus. ...found days later in a fishing village in northern Spain speaking only in haikus."

_I've been reading the same bloody sentences over and over!_ "Fuck," Draco muttered.

"Lovely language, darling," Narcissa chided as she walked into the lounge.

Draco looked up at her. Watched her as she sat in the chair across from him. Watched as she picked up a dated copy of Witch Weekly. He wanted her. Wanted to make her his. To protect her, to help her, to make her feel better, to entertain her, to make her happy.

Lately though his thoughts about his mother had started taking a darker turn. The lines were beginning to blur and he wasn't quite sure how or why. The first time it happened it was early in the morning. Far too early for any human being to be awake. He was getting himself off. Thinking of a slender woman with perfect tits. When he came he ended up whispering his mother's given name. He was surprised and disturbed. At the time he had blamed it on being higher than a Quidditch post.

When he had woken up the next day he couldn't meet her eyes. She asked him what was wrong and he told her it was nothing. When he didn't think she was looking he'd stare at her. It started with him staring at her and wondering why he said her name when he had come. Then he started looking at her. The way she moved, the way her frocks covered her body. He let himself imagine what it might be to snog her. His mind slipped to being on top of her and then he imagined fucking her properly. Or as properly as a son can fuck his mother.

The sound of a baby crying brought Draco out of his thoughts. He heard his aunt run up the stairs to attend to her morphing half-animal of a grandchild. The thing cried relentlessly and when it wasn't crying it was leaking out some sort of bodily fluid from one end or the other. He was told 'that's what babies do'. He refused to believe it.

"Could it get any worse?" He muttered aloud.

Narcissa turned a page of the magazine. "Andromeda is hosting an Order of the Phoenix sponsored after war fundraising gathering next week," she replied nonchalantly.

"I shouldn't have asked," he responded dryly as he stood from the settee. He gathered his books and headed upstairs. The baby shrieked again over the sounds of his aunt's off key lullabies. _And of course the ministry had to take away my wand until start of term_. He slammed his bedroom door shut as the child cried even louder.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh I thought he'd never fall back asleep," Andromeda sighed as she sat down in the chair next to Narcissa. She leaned down and picked up the copy of Witch Weekly Narcissa had discarded earlier and began to flip through it.

Narcissa looked up from the Evening Prophet. "I can't say I miss those days," she said after a moment.

"Neither did I," Andromeda said, meeting her sister's gaze. "I just wish..." She paused. "I just wish that Nymphadora was here," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa said as she looked away.

"Why? You had no part in it. You were never one of them."

She shook her head. "I don't know. They lived in my house and I did nothing. Now, my worthless husband is in prison and I feel like I've imposed quite a bit to be honest."

"Nonsense," replied Andromeda. "If it weren't for you, Harry Potter would have been killed and who knows if we would even be here if Voldemort was still alive."

Narcissa nodded, unable to disagree with her.

"Furthermore," Andromeda continued, "you aren't imposing. You are my sister and I'm glad we are able to talk after such a long time."

"I am too," Narcissa said, letting out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. "Although I do want to pay you back," she said, finally meeting her sister's eyes again.

"Now," Andromeda said with a smirk, "if you truly feel like paying me back then help me with this charity event."

"Why did you volunteer to host this thing in the first place?" Narcissa asked.

Andromeda shrugged. "The house is big enough and the gardens are as well."

Narcissa pursed her lips. _Big enough is truly a subjective term in any sense of the word_. "Who is catering?"

"Someone from the Ministry is taking care of that," she responded as she set the magazine down.

"Well at least that is taken care of. What are you wearing?" Narcissa realised she had absolutely nothing to wear as she asked the question.

"No idea but I hoped you could help me with that and figuring out how we are going to set the tables. I'm not sure I should let anyone in the house."

"Well you'll have to let them in to use the loo."

Andromeda nodded. "This is true. Perhaps just decorate the entry hall?"

Narcissa agreed. Still wondering what she was going to wear. She hadn't the chance to grab anything fancy, not with that cross, manly looking woman from the ministry watching her every move as she packed a small trunk. She couldn't wear a day frock. There was already too much talk about her and the situation she was in, let alone word get out Mrs. Lucius Malfoy was too poor to buy new clothing.

"Narcissa?"

"Hmmm?" Narcissa looked over at her sister and realised she had been staring out into space. "Sorry. I just have... a lot on my mind".

"No doubt," Andromeda said. "Anything you want to discuss?"

Narcissa twisted her fingers together. Talking to her sister shouldn't be this awkward. "I-Well, I didn't have a chance to bring any proper frocks when I left. Nothing that would really be appropriate for next week."

"Well then, pick out something when you go shopping with me. I wanted to go this weekend if that's alright with you?"

"I suppose that would work," she agreed. "Where are we shopping? Diagon, I'm assuming." Narcissa wondered who Andromeda went to for wardrobe fittings.

Andromeda shook her head. "Well, not really. More of the Barrenkale area." Seeing the look upon her sister's face she quickly added, "Oh but don't worry. I think you'll like Sassy Circe. They usually have a fantastic selection."

Narcissa attempted to smile. "I'm sure I'll be able to find something." Suddenly she started to feel overwhelmed. She could feel her chest tighten and felt like she couldn't breathe and had an overwhelming urge to escape. "I think I'm going to go to bed now," she whispered and stood from her chair.

Andromeda rose from her chair as well, "I think I shall retire shortly as well." She headed toward the kitchen. "Good night, Cissa," she said as she walked out of the room.

Narcissa turned and quickly headed up the stairs. She closed the door to her room and locked it. Standing in the darkness for a moment she tried to regain her composure. She unzipped her dress and left it on the floor. She opened the door to the lavatory she shared with Draco and turned on the lights. Feeling the tears threatening to spill down her face she braced herself against the countertop.

Draco awoke with a start. Gasping for air he remembered his nightmare. It was the same one that had been plaguing him since it happened months ago. The same sick and twisted shit that he was forced to do as a Death Eater. He knew he'd never be able to forget the looks on that Muggle family's faces. The look of terror on the father's face as he realised he wasn't going to be able to protect his family. The mother's shrieks as Macnair took her aside.

He lay down and turned on his side, trying to quell the bile that kept rising in his throat. He swallowed. It was silent. He was glad the child had stopped crying but the silence was almost unnerving. He heard the sound of a switch being flipped and nearly jumped out of his skin. _It's just your mother, you prat._ He thought, scolding himself as the lavatory light shown through the door that was still ajar and into his bedroom.

He waited for her to close the door. After a few minutes he wondered if he should see if she was alright or at least close the door for her as a courtesy. The lights in the lavatory flickered and then went back to normal. Draco could only remember one time that had happened. It was shortly after they arrived at his aunt's home. He went upstairs and stood in his bedroom. He then began pacing and pulling on his hair, feeling like he wanted to escape his own body. The muggle lights in his room began to flicker and finally went out when he punched a wall.

Quietly getting out of bed he discretely peeked through the opening in the door and saw his mother standing in front of the mirror. She was wearing only a pale blue bralette and knickers. Her stockings were a bit torn and her body was shaking. He heard her exhale and wipe her face. He stood there, almost mesmerised. Her ribs were nearly poking through her skin and he could see nearly every vertebrae. She looked...sickly. Unkempt. Forgotten about.

Draco had never seen her cry before. Not even during the war. He wanted nothing more than to go in and wrap his arms around her. Press his body against hers and run his hands up and down her arms. He wanted to console her and lie to her and tell her that everything would be all right. He reached for the door handle and forced himself to stop. He backed away slowly and got back into bed.

Narcissa wiped the tears from her eyes and looked into the mirror. Her pale skin was red and blotchy. She studied herself. Thin, thinner than she had ever been. Perhaps too pale. Her eyes had more creases and lines since after the war and she could see some forming in the corners of her mouth as well. Swallowing, she turned on the tap and splashed cold water against her face. Drying her face, she grabbed her toothbrush and quickly brushed her teeth.

She stood facing the mirror again, not able to recognise who was staring back. She felt homesick. Not homesick for Wiltshire; but, homesick for herself. She didn't know who she was. She didn't understand why she acted the way she did. She hated relying on charity from someone who was only a familiar stranger. It was like living someone else's life. Like a puppeteer who wasn't very good and controlling the marionette. The strings were being tugged but in all the wrong ways.

Flipping off the lights she walked back into her bedroom. She unhooked the stockings from their clasps and undid her garter. Forgoing her dressing gown she climbed into bed, pulled the duvet up and around her body. She wanted her son. She knew he was suffering and she wanted to comfort him. Perhaps in a pseudo-self comforting way. Hot, silent tears started streaming down her face as she began to cry again but for what she wasn't quite sure.

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a/n: Many thanks to those have reviewed. My undying love to Mrs. Milfoy as always for her toleration of my commas.


	3. Chapter 3

Narcissa lifted her head from the pillow and slowly opened her eyes. Blearily she rubbed them, trying to rid her eyes of the dried tears and whatever else had gathered there. She squinted at the sun that was shining through the curtains, trying to remember what day it was. She turned over and looked at the clock on the night table and saw that it was nearly one in the afternoon. _Fuck!_ She attempted to untangle herself from the sheets and swore aloud as another blanket twisted itself around one of her limbs.

Finally managing to free herself, she walked into the lavatory, leaving the door open behind her. She pulled her knickers down and let them fall to her ankles as she sat on the toilet. Narcissa ran her hands through her hair and pull it over a shoulder as she relieved herself. Silently she chastised herself for the night before as she pulled her knickers up and stepped over to the sink.

Narcissa kept her head down as she washed her hands and splashed some water on her face. She couldn't bring herself to look at her reflection, even in the semi-darkness. She felt ashamed of her unwitnessed behaviour. Walking out of the bathroom, she unhooked her bralette and dropped it in the pile of clothing she had created the night before. She felt guilty for creating so much laundry for her sister. _I wonder how much a paid elf truly costs?_ she wondered.

Opening the wardrobe doors she stared at the single row of frocks she had brought with her. Black. Grey. Black. Grey. Grey with a black pattern. Black. A very worn out shade of green. A dress in a sickly shade of yellow Andromeda had lent her when she first arrived and hadn't touched since. Eventually she decided on a black dress with a grey pattern and threw it on the bed. _Perhaps I need to buy more colour, _she thought, as she picked out a new bra and pair of knickers and added it to the pile on the bed.

She walked back into the bathroom, finally having enough confidence to turn on the light but still avoided her own reflection. She closed the door leading into Draco's room and turned on the tap for the bathtub. When the water had become hot enough she put the stopper in the drain and stripped off her knickers, leaving them to lie in a small heap on the floor.

As she sank down into the quickly filling tub, she pulled her knees to her chest and let the water rise around her. It was hot. Perhaps too hot. But it made her feel and she couldn't remember the last time she truly felt. Truly reacted. The crying fit she had the night before was an overflow of emotion her internal barriers weren't high enough to hold. Her burning skin reminded her that she was still alive.

After nearly scrubbing her skin raw, she lay back in the tub to wet her hair. As she submerged her head in the water she wondered what it would be like to drown. She wondered if there would be a moment of pure bliss after the struggling stopped and right before blacking out. And then nothing. She would feel nothing and be nothing but an empty shell. As she sat up to put soap in her hair she wondered if it would be any different than how she was now. _Less laundry for my sister_.

Draco slammed his textbook shut as he stood from the chair. _Bugger history_, he thought. He dropped the book on the chair and walked out of the lounge. He stopped and watched his mother walk down the stairs. Her dress flowed around her but clung to her breasts. He swallowed.

"Draco?"

He looked at her, thinking of the night before. How he watched her silently lose control. Walking down the stairs she was composed and calm. Back to being the formidable queen of ice.

"Are you alright?" He looked like he was in the middle of panicky dilemma.

"I'm fine" he lied. "I, uh, was going for a walk." _Pitiful._

Narcissa pursed her lips "Care if I join you?"

"Not at all," he said, twisting his hands together as he headed for the door. He opened it and let her pass through, barely hearing her muttered 'thanks'.

As they began to walk the grounds he fought the urge to put an arm around her. Their hands grazed each other's and he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets. They walked in silence. Each one wanted to say something but not quite sure what. What neutral topic to choose, what to say, how to start it. Instead they chose to walk in silence. He snuck glances at his mother, watching the occasional breeze mess with the loose strands of her hair.

"That was nice," Narcissa said when they had arrived back at the house an hour later. "Thank you." She looked at him, trying to feign a smile. He nodded back at her and held open the door. "Draco," she started as he waited for her to walk through.

"Yes, mother?"

"If there's anything…" she trailed off, not able to finish.

He shook his head. "I'm fine" he lied again.

Narcissa closed her eyes and shook her head as she walked into the house. _I wonder if there is anything I could have done differently_. She thought back to his childhood, wondering if it was maybe all those gifts, or the times she never said no. Perhaps she should have encouraged different friends and less prejudice. Perhaps downing pills and alcohol hadn't been the best way to cope when she lost another child. Especially when Draco had been at such an impressionable age. _It still would have come down to Lucius._

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Andromeda call her name. She turned and saw her sister walk into the lounge, baby on her hip.

"Would you mind watching him?" she asked, handing the very sticky looking baby out to her younger sister. "I've a few things I need to take care of."

Narcissa shook her head and reached out for the thing. _Child_, she silently chastised herself. _Damn you, Draco_.

That evening, after dinner, Narcissa sat in the back garden slowly smoking one of her hand rolled cigarettes. She tried to forget the lacklustre food that wasn't sitting quite right with her. _I've got to stop criticising her_, she thought. She doubted she could have done better if she was in Andromeda's place. She was having a hard enough time living with her sister who was taking care of her let alone running away from years of being pampered and attended to by staff and servants alike.

Narcissa jumped slightly as the door opened and Draco walked out and sat down next to her on the step. "May I have one?" he asked, already holding out his hand.

Dropping a cigarette into his open hand she rolled her eyes. "I really shouldn't be encouraging this," she commented dryly as she handed him a match.

Draco shrugged as he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. "We are both just trying to cope, aren't we?"

"I suppose we are," she said as she took another drag, blowing the smoke out of her mouth and nose. "I don't know how I'm going to cope during this charity event."

"Hide away and drink copious amount of champagne?" he suggested.

His mother nodded "That actually sounds like a good idea". She put out the end of her cigarette and lit another.

They sat for a few moments, smoking in silence. Draco glanced over at his mother, wondering if he should tell her what he saw the night before. She turned her head and caught him staring. Again.

"What is it, Draco?," she asked. Silence. She asked again. "You don't think I haven't noticed you staring at me since we've arrived here?"

Draco put his head in his hands. "I saw you. Accidently."

"You saw me when?" Narcissa's mind began to race. _When did he see me?_ _At the manor during the war? With the knife and the pills and the blood_?

"Last night...in the loo" he whispered. "The door was slightly ajar and the lights were flickering and I-" he didn't know what else to say.

Narcissa could almost feel her heart stop. "Last night?" She flicked her cigarette as he nodded. "In the loo when I was cry - only in my -" she couldn't finish her thoughts. She felt disgustingingly exposed.

"That doesn't explain the other times," she whispered. "Before last night. You've stared at me ever since we got here."

Draco ran a hand through his hair and took a long drag from his cigarette. "I don't even…" He swallowed.

"Well," she started.

"Well, it's you." he cut her off. "You make me feel so -so. Ever since the war began and those _fucking_ death eaters swarmed into our house I just wanted to protect you."

"I think that's natural, Draco. Wanting to protect the ones we love," she responded softly.

"You don't understand," he continued, putting his head in his hands. "It's changed. It's like everything is blurred. It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" she asked. "What's changed?"

"I want to make you happy, to protect you," he said, vocalising his thoughts from a few days before. "I want to make you feel better. I want _you_."

"You want me as in…" she trailed off, slowly coming to the realisation of what he was trying to say.

He said nothing and stood up from the step and walked back inside, letting the door slam behind him.

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**A/N:** My apologies for the lack of updates. Real life has unfortunately taken over.


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